What I Hoped Would Be Impossible
by Oblong features
Summary: Jared discovers a potentially deadly secret about the Warden, and his past may be the key to assisting the Warden's future, or lack thereof. No yaoi or anything, just a friendship, and no OCs. Parental guidance suggested for drugs and language.
1. 1

What long days! Longer days than working for the mafia, thought Jared. Though of course he didn't think he was working for the mafia. How could he have been that naïve? I mean, that was pretty dumb—out of all the dumb things he could have been assuming, that was pretty dumb. Pretty weird too, come to think of it, he thought as he pounded his stubby legs down the hallway, weirder than that dream he had last night, the one where he made out with the Warden, yeah, that was a weird one. Man, my mind races a lot, I should stop doing that. It's probably why I'm so bad at the little things, because I can't focus on them for more than two seconds before I have to start thinking about something else. He dropped his papers on the ground, frenzied, outside the Warden's office door. Stupid, stupid, stupid, come on Jared, get it together, the boss is counting on you. Mortality graphs in front of the taxes, he does like the pretty pictures, and a happy Warden is a Warden that signs his paperwork without a fuss. Pounding the papers neatly and obsessively on his left knee to even out the corners and popping them in a linear manila folder, Jared inspected his tidy reorganization as he shoved the door open with a busy shoulder.

"Sir, I've got some statistics for you I think you'll appreciate," he said, his face buried in his work as he entered the room. As the door swung ajar, the Warden's face whipped up from his desk, his cheeks slightly sunken and nose a bit rosy. "…sir?" Jared caught a quick glimpse of his boss' desk—a straight edged razor that appeared as if it used to be inside of a shaving utensil with a bit of white powder on it, the Warden clutching a very short straw, a bit of a shattered mirror. He didn't need to see any more.

"Get the fuck out of here," the Warden cooed, his eyes glistening with loathing, his heart strangling his throat through his stomach.

Jared ran, his folder leaving a splay of papers raining in chaos, the Warden running his fingers like a tremor though his hair in Jared's wake.


	2. 2

"…cocaine, though! The Warden, doing drugs? He's—he's running rehabilitation for that kind of thing—maybe not compassionately, maybe not effectively, but he's doing it—but him! Him, of all people!" Jared squealed, panting as he pounded the ground with his stubby legs. Alice lifted her weight passively, making subtle, lady-like grunting noises in the background, letting the little guy let off steam. "Did you know?" He leaped around to face her, sweat pouring from his gargantuan forehead. She sighed melodramatically.

"I mean, it was kind of obvious." She put her weight down with a soft moan. "No one can be that nuts and be sober. You of all people would know that." Jared cringed with a reflective thought. She was right. He was blind again. She stood up and straightened out her skirt, picking up her weight and walking out. "I could really care less what he does with his free time. But if it bothers you, shorty, talk to him about it." She pushed open the door only to meet the Warden himself; looking normal and healthy, highly juxtaposed to his previous rather frantic state, Jared thought. He bounced into the room, giving Jared a nasty glare.

"You dropped your papers all over my office earlier!" he said, waving his cane at Jared condescendingly. "That's one more strike, Jared, and you don't have too many of those left!"

"Sir, I-," Jared began, anxiously approaching the Warden's flurried coattails.

"Ah-ah! Not one more word from you, not when there's work to be done! Now come on Jared, the Doctor's expecting us."

"Sir!" Jared piped up bravely, thinking of Alice's sensible advice. "I-I really do need to talk to you!" The Warden's already rapid, arrhythmic heart skipped a few beats, his stomach spawning a butterfly or two. He turned around, keeping his frustrated persona, frightening Jared even more.

"Well, what about? Spit it out already!" he snapped, biting his lip covertly on the inside of his mouth.

"Sir!..." Jared choked, "I—I can help you—if you're—if you're having trouble—if you're addicted to cocaine—I—I'm here for you." The Warden sniffed as he swallowed his heart, blinking hard to wipe away the vivid images appearing behind Jared that he knew weren't real. Shit, it was gonna be another one of those days, wasn't it. He clenched his right hand in a harsh fist and stared Jared dead in the eyes.

"I'll ask for your help if I need it." He pumped his fist a few times, hoping Jared wouldn't notice. That was one of those addict things people do, he wasn't an addict, having a bad day, he wasn't an addict. "And I _don't_ need it. Now come on. We have work to do."


	3. 3

Am I crazy? I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy and I'm not an _addict_. And I don't need anyone's _help_. I don't use all that much, only once a day—don't lie to yourself David, don't lie to yourself, twice a day, it's twice a day, maybe three times a day. Maybe four. Maybe four times a day on a bad day. Today wasn't a bad day though, today was good, good, only twice, only twice. But then why do I keep seeing shit? I'm not _crazy_, I know I'm not crazy. But I know this shit can't be real. Jared doesn't have two heads Alice doesn't have four tits I can't look in the mirror and change colors. Mm, head, my head hurts, I need to do another line. …Fucking Jared, that little _prick_. I don't need his help, he thinks I need _his_ help? He's nothing but a little loser, when I found him he was nothing, he was just an inmate, a pathetic _inmate_, a slimy little greaseball of a human being piece of shit and _I _helped him, _I saved_ him from his _miserable_ existence and he thinks he can tell me what to do? He thinks _he_ can _help_ _me? _As if I need help! I'm the fucking king, I'm the fucking Warden! God damn, my chest hurts, I need—I need to do another line, I'm slowing down—I can't slow down, I have too much to do. All the time, all the God damn time I have too much to do, it's so much, man, this job, this job is so much. I wonder how my father did it for so many years. Great man. …need 'lil more, fuck it, finish this stash off'f now.

…chest feels funny. Hands are moving—why are my hands moving like that—all by themselves? God, I'm so cold, I'm gonna throw up, shit, I'm gonna throw up… oh, my head… oh God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, I'm sorry…

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Sir?" Jared said, knocking quietly on the Warden's office door. "I… I saw the light was on and I just wanted to—I know it's late, yo—you're working late-…" he paused, the Warden's chair behind his desk empty, and approached with distinct caution. "...sir?" He grimaced, spying the Warden's limp foot hanging behind the edge of his desk. And as he sprinted over to his boss' side, he dropped his pager three times, flustered as he tried to contact the Doctor, his world crumbling seeing the Warden laying in the fetal position in a pool of his own vomit, quaking with incapacitating tremors, pale as his dope.


	4. 4

_You guys should feel super honored, I think this is one of the only stories I've left for a while then had the opportunity to come back to… I suppose the new season gave me inspiration. Happy watching, by the way! Sundays at 12:15, if you weren't aware. But anyway, on to the story!_

Waking up in a bed in the infirmary was equally mildly disheartening and problematically shocking. _Father forgive me_, he thought, _what the fuck did I do last night?_ Leaning over him in a breach of his personal space was the harsh stink of formaldehyde and sweat – the Doctor – and coffee lips with fresh spearmint breath – Jared. Alice's cheap, fruity perfume lingered in the air, he assumed she was somewhere in the room. He closed his eyes, thinking that when he opened them again, everyone would be gone and he could just die or disappear or something. But everything stayed the same. _Great. Just great._

"That was a hell of an OD!" the Doctor said thickly and without concern. "What were you trying to do, Warden? Because if you didn't have me, I think you could've done it!" The Warden thought he heard a bit of a chuckle hidden between the Doctor's words. _Yeah, fuck you too, buddy._

"Sir, are you alright? We were so worried!" Jared shrieked, his voice grinding against his boss' ears. _Yeah, like hell you were. Worried about your job is more like it._

"I wasn't," Alice chimed in from across the room, sucking on a cherry lollipop, a bit of lipstick on her right front tooth. _At least she's honest._ The Warden took a cold hand and slipped it under his shirt, feeling his heartbeat, making sure he was alive just one more time. He inhaled sharply, swallowing in exasperation.

"This was none of your business, okay? I didn't hire you to babysit me," he sat up slowly, with a grunt, feeling Jared's arms spotting him, ready to catch him, burning a hole through his back. "I hired you to run Superjail. Jailbot!" The robot dashed over, gently cradling him in two tubular, metallic appendages. "So go do your damn jobs." He let his head fall on Jailbot's body, closing his eyes, still desperate to fade away. "Jailbot, take me to my room." And with that, they were gone, Jared's calls of "sir" echoing behind him.


	5. 5

**_Jared_**

"I think he's got a problem," the Doctor said rather apathetically. Jared whipped around, sweat pouring from his monstrous forehead, absolutely fuming.

"Of course he does! And he refuses to admit it! He needs to admit he has a problem in order to get better, and he isn't –," Jared began.

"Maybe he doesn't want to get better," Alice said, walking towards the door. She turned around, her lips in a soft pout. "He's a grown man, shorty. If he wants to kill himself, it's his choice. We're not his parents."

"But we're his friends!" Jared cried, hyperventilating just a little bit, the Doctor looming behind him.

"No," she said, opening the door, "we're his employees." She left, leaving the sharp, congealed scent of her perfume on the clothes of her co-workers.

"She's right," the Doctor said, "but I'll be damned if his problem puts me out of the job. This is the first real gig I've held for more than three weeks, and if the Warden dies, it's back to doing surgeries with black market organs in the basements of strip clubs," he sighed reflectively, turning around and approaching his lab bench. "Go fix him."

"What, me? But I'm the least likely to -," Jared started.

"You're the closest to him out of all of us. I don't talk to him that often, and he'd stare at Alice's tits for an eternity before he'd actually listen to what she's saying." He snapped a glove, his back still turned towards Jared. "He might hate you and think you're a loser, but at least he hears you out sometimes." Jared wanted to argue, he wanted to start talking and get interrupted or yelled at or berated, but for once, the Doctor made a decent point. Maybe Jared actually could help the Warden. Maybe Jared was his _only_ hope. Nah, that was way too romantic, only his warped subconscious thought of the Warden like that. And hell, Jared knew about addiction, he knew more than anyone should have to know. He fidgeted with his mustache in thought.

"Okay," he said, nodding bravely, asserting his affirmation. He continued to nod to himself even as he walked away; he didn't know what else to do, silently clacking his way out the door, taking his mission a little too seriously.

**_The Warden_**

"Jailbot, clean me up," he said softly as Jailbot opened the door to his elaborate bedroom. Quickly, almost as briskly as his morning routine, he was clean, in pajamas and tucked into bed. "Thanks," he said, tucking a hand under his pillow. "That's all I need." Jailbot lingered for a second, tucking the Warden's covers over his shoulder and leaving the room slowly, turning around a few times to see if that was really all his master needed. The door closing with a soft thud, the Warden thought to himself, _I'm finally alone. _

_Hopefully for a while. I don't even know what time it is, much less what day it is. And it's not like I can take the day off tomorrow, this isn't that kind of job, I can't just call in sick or something. Well – I could, but… I wouldn't, I guess. My father wouldn't – oh god – my father – not now, don't do this, David, not now._ He tucked his knees to his chest, beginning to breathe in a shallow, frightened frenzy, feeling his chin tighten and drag down his lower lip in an effort not to cry. He wondered why the fuck this always happened whenever he tried to relax, tried to sleep, it was the first thing he thought of and the only dream he ever had. Every night he slept, every damn time, that same dream. Not a single detail changed, he could write a book about that dream, that fucking dream. _That's why I need the coke_, he often thought, _so I'll never have to sleep. So I'll never stop working, I'll never stop to think, I'll never lay in bed wishing I hadn't whatever never mind. _He lay in bed, shaking, sweating, uncomfortable, until he heard the door open again. _Thank god. I thought you'd actually believed me this time. _Jailbot glided over to the Warden's side, a slight whirring hallowing through the room like a robotic heartbeat. The Warden pursed his lips, managing a short and meaningless smile for the old friend, letting Jailbot gently lift up his arm and roll up his sleeve. A small syringe came out of Jailbot's body cavity, and with a seamless and loving motion, he punctured The Warden's arm with it and injected the serum, giving his master a Band-Aid, rolling down his sleeve and comfortably tucking him in once again.

"Thank you," the Warden sighed in drowsy repetition, unaware that he had said the same words just a few minutes ago. "That's all I need." He let his voice trail off and his heartbeat slow, slipping quickly into unconsciousness before he had time to think about his father again. Jailbot fluffed the Warden's pillow very slightly, and without a fuss, floated towards the door. Be back in a few hours, check his vitals, and let him rest. It was almost a routine now. It was nice to feel needed, some small part of Jailbot declared in a mental format much different from the thoughts of a human. It was nice to help out a friend rather than watch him suffer. Turning around briefly for one last peek, Jailbot let out a few reassuring beeps before he closed the door, leaving the Warden to get some well-deserved rest.


End file.
